


Like Flower Shops

by Candlestick101



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Modern AU, One Shot, Overdosing, Past Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-28 02:15:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17173934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Candlestick101/pseuds/Candlestick101
Summary: Alexander mourns his husband and encounters some unexpected company.





	Like Flower Shops

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Major Character Death, Past Suicide by Overdosing
> 
> If ANY of this triggers you, PLEASE go back. I don't want to trigger you with my stupid writing.

Alexander took a shaky breath and rubbed his moist palms against the fabric of his dress pants. He was kneeling and staring at the tombstone in front of him.

“John… I- I don’t know how to begin,” he whispered. Already feeling the tears build up in his eyes.  _ Goddamnit. Don’t cry. Not in front of Jackie.  _

“I-I’m sorry,” he sputtered. He brought his shaky hands to his face and wiped away the sudden stream of hot tears. It was, in vain, as more tears came after those, and more after those, and more, and more, and more. “I know you don’t like to see me cry,” he whimpered. Hating how vulnerable his voice sounded. “But I can’t help it. I can’t! Not after... Not after what you did to me.”

Alexander darted his eyes to the side, the heavy feeling in his chest suffocating him. He shivered as a cold breeze went by. He hated  _ everything _ about this. He hated that he had to lose the thing most close to him. He hated how no matter what he did, he was always going to be left abandoned and unloved. At first, he thought that he was cursed. His father left his family, leaving them without a damn cent. And after that, he had to watch his mother die, in front of him. To add to the pile of shit that was his life, he moved in with his cousin, who guess what? Killed himself. Everyone,  _ everyone _ who Alexander loved, who Alexander cared for had died.

He thought John would be the exception.

….

That was not the case.

Alexander remembered that day. Hell, that day was imprinted into his memory. A tool for use mind to use, to torture him without end. It was the day that forced him to have to go to therapy. It’s the day that forced him to  _ still _ be going to therapy. And no matter how much he tried to forget it, to push it to the back of his mind it always came back! 

The day he had lost John. He remembered walking into their apartment. Groceries in hand. He had texted John a few times but had received no response. He didn’t take it as much, maybe John’s phone had died, or maybe it was simply left on silent. Everything about the apartment just felt… off. His body filled up with some irrational dread. Nothing was wrong, so why did it feel like it? 

He remembered calling out John’s name. And receiving no response. This frightened him to the point at which he was shaking. Why was he shaking? Nothing was wrong! He felt so mad at himself for feeling so off. He wanted to tell himself that nothing was wrong, he told himself that nothing was wrong. He tried his best to convince himself, but he couldn’t once the evidence was right in front of him.

He remembered putting the bags of groceries down by the coffee table. Scraping up every ounce of courage he had in store to make his way to the bedroom. Maybe John was sleeping, he told himself as he walked down the short hallway to the bedroom. The door was closed, but not locked. He took a shaky breath and stared at the doorknob for the longest time. He hated himself so goddamn much for being so nervous.  _ Nothing is wrong. Nothing is wrong. Nothing is wrong! _

He opened the door and something was wrong. He felt his stomach drop at the sight of it. John, no, that wasn’t  _ his _ John. That couldn’t be  _ his  _ John. The man, laying on the floor, pale as a sheet, couldn’t be his John. His John was a man full of life and full of love. John was a freckled boy, with vibrant tan skin that glowed in the sunlight. With beautiful, thick curls that bounced around in that cute ponytail of his whenever he laughed. And his laugh. Oh, his laugh, was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard, so sincere. He was a man that never stopped smiling. Yet here he was. Unmoving. 

He remembered approaching the man- well, the corpse and collapsing to his knees beside it. Tears streaming down his face. He sobbed uncontrollably, choking on his own tears. He kept repeating John’s name, over and over again, as though John would magically wake up and everything would be better again. But John didn’t wake up, he was long gone. And the worst part of it all was half empty bottle of pills found scattered on the floor. John had overdosed. 

Yeah, Alexander remembered that day. He, also, remembered how he stayed by John’s side, for  _ days _ . He refused to move from his lover’s side.  _ What if he woke up? What if I wake up, and this is just one bad dream? _ He asked himself. Soon it became more of a: When _ is he going to wake up?  _ When _ will this nightmare end?  _ It took months of therapy to convince him that this was reality. His John really did die. Apparently, he almost did, too. His neighbors had complained about a horrid smell coming from his room, the smell of a dead body. Eventually, someone had came in to see Alexander, dehydrated and starving, next to John’s dead body.

The doctors said that if his neighbor hadn’t found him, he probably would’ve died, too. Sometimes, Alexander wished that was the case.

Alexander set the purple chrysanthemums down in front of the grave. He stared at them for a while with a small, shy smile. Chrysanthemums were John’s favorite… 

“You know… I remember our first date,” he whispered. His throat  _ aching _ . “I brought you flowers. Ones like these and I was scared. So scared, I was sweating  _ buckets  _ because I didn’t know if it was too early for flowers, or maybe you were allergic or something. All I wanted to do was make that cute freckled boy who lived across the hall happy.”

He took another shaky breath. His mind going a million miles per hour. He felt as though if he were to go on, he’d throw up. “And I did make you happy! Or… at least I thought I did…”

That was the truth. Being with John was like a dream. He never seemed to be sad or unhappy. Whenever he was upset, somehow, someway, he found a way to forget about it. To bury it underneath everything else.

“You kept burying away all your sadness, all your hardships. You kept them tucked away. You tried being happy for  _ me _ !” He cried out. “You were killing yourself even before you… you popped those pills into your mouth… And I thought you were happy. I fell for your facade, just like everybody else did. I wish I could’ve been a better husband. A better boyfriend. And a better friend. I wish I could’ve seen beyond your facade and I wish I could’ve saved you.”

Alexander stared down at the grave for a few seconds before shutting his eyes tight. “I- I should’ve saved you. It was my job to save you... I’m sorry. I failed you, I failed your family-”

“Excuse me, sir..” Said an almost familiar Southern accent.

Alexander turned around to see a young girl, around her late teens, and holding a bouquet of chrysanthemums, staring down at him with teary, hazel eyes. She looked  _ just _ like John. Freckles and everything. She was dressed in all black, her clothes from well-recognized, and rather expensive brands. Obviously, she came from a family of great wealth.

“Are you..?”

“Jack’s sister,” she said, slowly turning her gaze towards the tombstone. “And you are..?”

“John’s husband.”

“Oh…”

Then there was an awkward silence hovering over the two. The two trying to piece things together. 

The young girl knew her brother was gay, that’s the reason he was kicked out in the first place. She never really had time to process that or the fact that he had actually gotten married to a man. Alexander, on the other hand, had never seen this girl before, not even at the funeral, where he thought he had met everyone in John’s family. And now the first time she’s seeing him, he’s on his knees, sobbing.  _ Pathetic.  _

“How come I never saw you at the funeral?” He asked, “If that’s an okay question to ask.. S-sorry if it’s not. You know what, I-I shouldn’t have a-”

“It’s fine, sir,” she interrupted, her voice as sweet as honey. “I was just a little girl, around 12 years old when I lost my brother. I  _ chose  _ not to go to the funeral. I realize now that it was a stupid decision. My, uh, my father wouldn’t let me visit him. I’ve been waiting five years to see him again… Father’s on a business trip right now. I didn’t know that today was the same day you were gonna visit.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I-I can leave if you want me to,” he offered, already starting to get up.

She quickly shook her head and wiped her eyes with the sleeves of her jacket. “No. It’s fine. He meant something to the both of us,” she said as she crouched down next to him, a small, comforting smile on her face. She put the flowers down by the tombstone. “He really liked these. Ever since I was little, he would tell me how he liked flowers. Roses, forget-me-nots, chrysanthemums, irises, orchids, tulips, and daffodils…”

Alexander turned to the girl and smiled back. She had been through a lot, losing a sibling. Especially if they were close. “Yeah,” he whispered, “John was fond of flowers. I used to go to this flower shop, not too far from our apartment, and get him something whenever I could.”

The girl smiled again, turning her attention towards him. “You must’ve been a good husband, Mr. Hamilton. You must’ve made him really happy. I’m sure he died happy, didn’t he? I heard he died in his sleep. Must’ve been really hard on you..”

Alexander stared back the girl, at first in confusion.  _ John didn’t die in his sleep, _ he wanted to say. But he didn’t. This girl was lied to, most likely by her own father. It would be much easier to say that he died peacefully rather than explaining suicide to the kid. 

“It was,” Alexander said, truthfully. “At first, I couldn’t find any reason to go on, but… I know John wouldn’t want me to mope around all day. He would want me to be just as happy as I was when he was alive. We shouldn’t let his death stop us from moving forward. Death is just… a part of life, Ms. Laurens. We need to learn to cope with it. Once somebody dies, we need to find the other things in life that make things worth it. The little things, y’know. Like flower shops and such.”

The girl stared at him for a while, finally letting the built up tears stream down her face. She launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his torso in a tight hug. She sobbed into his chest, whimpering out a few, ‘Thank you’s, and ‘I miss him’s. Alexander frowned down at the girl and wrapped his arms around her, returning the gesture. He didn’t believe what he had said, at least he didn’t  _ know _ if he believed what he had said. He knew John wouldn’t want him to be sad, but he couldn’t find a way to be happy anymore. He always told himself that there was no way to be happy anymore, he told himself that he  _ can’t _ be happy anymore. But, he just told this girl that she could be happy without her brother, so why can’t he be happy without his husband?


End file.
